


Heaven-Sent

by HigherMagic



Category: Adam (2009), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, Spacedogs - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bottom Nigel (Charlie Countryman), Condoms, First Meetings, Fluff, Hangover, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Meet-Cute, Top Adam, Top Adam Raki, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2019-10-17 05:43:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17554478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HigherMagic/pseuds/HigherMagic
Summary: Nigel passes out on the front porch of a very exasperated but adorable angel.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ishxallxgood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishxallxgood/gifts).



Nigel doesn't make a habit of passing out drunk on the front doorstep of an absolute fucking angel, but today is apparently his lucky day. Though it doesn't start out lucky – he wakes to the sharp scent of overly-salted chicken noodle soup in a brown bag and a cup of tea being carefully placed by his hand on the cold, concrete doorstep.

He wakes with a flail of limbs, almost causing both soup and drink to go splashing out over himself and the nameless Samaritan, a curse on his lips that abruptly dies off when he sees the _pure fucking angelic grace_ of the man who had taken time to offer him such things. There's a pool of vomit by his shoes and the man's forehead is crinkled in a sharp frown. He straightens up, dressed in a sweater vest and dark slacks of all things in this ridiculously hot Californian weather, and his nose wrinkles as Nigel straightens.

"What the fuck," he groans, and presses a hand against his forehead.

"You have been drinking," the angel says, and Nigel rolls his eyes, pushing himself upright from the bag of wet potato-slump he had been. He glares up at the angel, watches as his fingers twist and curl around each other and he tentatively nudges the brown bag with his foot. "You have been on this step for a few hours. I first noticed at 5:18 this morning and it's 8:47 now. My friend Beth told me that soup and caffeine are good for nausea and headaches so I brought you some, and now you are going to make me late."

These things are all said in rapid succession, and Nigel blinks up at the angel, softening somewhat as he watches the other man fidget and flex in place. 

"Okay," the angel says. "I hope you have a good day. Please eat and drink otherwise it will go to waste, and please clean up your mess. The smell is quite distressing."

He turns away, and Nigel doesn't know a lot of things but he damn well knows you don't let an absolute angel (a fucking gorgeous one to boot) just walk away. He lets out a formless, wordless cry and reaches out, and catches the angel by the sleeve of his bright blue button-down shirt.

The angel freezes, and looks at him with eyes that could probably inspire men who are a lot more wordy than Nigel to write poems about them. Hell, he's feeling a sonnet or two springing up and his mouth is ashy and tastes like the very specific morning-after flavor, but he clears his throat and tugs and the angel rights himself, coming about-face to stand in front of him, pointedly as far away from the dried puddle of vomit as he can.

"Wait, wait," Nigel says. The angel tilts his head. "I mean. Thank you, gorgeous. For the food and drink."

The angel nods – two of them, very sharp like someone is tugging on his chin. "You're welcome," he replies. He seems neither flattered nor uncomfortable at being called 'gorgeous', which is a damn welcome new reaction in Nigel's experience. The angel looks at his sleeve and Nigel lets him go. "It's good soup. It's my favorite soup from the restaurant at the end of this street. My friend Beth helped teach me how to make the tea so it's her fault if you don't like it."

Nigel laughs, hoarse and loud – too loud, he notices that immediately, and quiets himself when the angel winces. "Thanks again, gorgeous. I'm sure I'll like it."

The angel's head tilts. Then, "Okay," he says simply. "Please clean up your mess. It's not fair to make others do it for you and it's not going to rain today." Nigel blinks at him, struck by the same rote way he is talking, like all of this is common sense and general knowledge and Nigel doesn't even know what fucking day it _is_ , let alone the weather. 

He looks down at his puddle of vomit and huffs. "Want me to use my spit and shirt?" he asks, thumbing at his clothes.

The angel's head tilts again, he frowns, an adorable little crease forming between his brows and his mouth turning down at the corners in an even line. His nose twitches and his fingers go back to wringing themselves.

Then, his eyes brighten, and he reaches into his bag. "Here," he says, and hands Nigel a keychain with a single silver key on it, attached to a little golden key and one novelty totem that resembles the planet with the rings around it. "I have cleaning supplies under the sink in my apartment. I'm on the second floor. You can use those."

Then, he turns, and walks away.

"Woah, wait a second, gorgeous," Nigel says, scrambling to his feet. The angel pauses at the end of the little walkway, looking more exasperated than anything now. "You're just gonna let a stranger into your place and snoop around your things? I could be a serial killer, or a thief."

The angel's head tilts again, he presses his lips together and his eyes dart down to his shoes, then up to Nigel's chest, then down again. "I'm already running late and with the current traffic patterns if I were to stay and help you I would be one hour and fourteen minutes late for work. If you are a serial killer then it doesn't matter because there will be no one there to kill and if you are a thief I will contact the police to get back whatever you've taken." His eyes lift again and he nods to himself. "I know what you look like and you have very distinguishing features."

Nigel grins, crooked and fine. "Sweet-talker," he teases.

The angel's brow creases again, and he takes a step back. "It was not meant as a flirtation," he says levelly. "But it is now 8:53 and I must be going. You can leave my key under the mat. Thank you, goodbye."

Nigel blinks at him, open-mouthed and static as the angel turns around and scurries out into the street, walking briskly away. He stares down at the keys in his hand, then twirls the ring around his middle finger and closes his fist around them.

He turns and looks up at the apartment building. "Well, alright, gorgeous," he says to himself, grinning. "Let's see what kind of man you are."

 

 

His name is Adam Raki. He has a utilitarian apartment, beige to the bone, except for his bedroom which is covered in such a stark myriad of blues, silvers, and space shit that Nigel has to wonder for a moment if he stepped into a portal that landed him in the middle of a museum. There's a picture of the angel with a dark-haired woman, both of them smiling and embracing like close friends do, and he assumes that this is Beth. There's a picture of an older man he assumes is Adam's father, he has the same eyes and dark hair, and a folded-up American flag on a shelf by the door. Nigel brings in the soup and tea, eats it – it's good, if a little too salty, and the tea is passable for that English breakfast crap – and cleans up the porch because if nothing else he can say he's half-way decent at cleaning up his own messes. He helps himself to some aspirin and refills the cup of tea with water, drinking that down as well to try and calm the pounding headache that sits determinedly behind his eyes.

Then, he is faced with a decision. He can leave the key under the mat as Adam asked him to, go on his merry way and forget the strange but nice interaction they shared. Or.

He whistles to himself, making himself at home as he peruses Adam's DVD collection, his wardrobe – a lot of the same, teacheresque look, with a notable stack of porn on the top shelf – his cabinets and pantry which is woefully stocked only with boxed meals and freezer meals for one. All in all, it paints the picture of a very particular person. It is also, he notes, a lonely-looking space.

He looks down at the keys in his hand, and presses his lips together. He should leave, really. There's nothing here that even hints that he and Adam will have anything in common, that Adam is looking for a friend or Nigel is in any fit state to be one. For fuck's sake, this time last year he was gunning down a Goddamn American for touching his woman and almost got a bullet in the brain for his trouble.

He considers, and that's how he ends up on Adam's front porch again, smoking a cigarette and using the empty plastic soup container for his ash and butts, when that gorgeous angel returns to him. Adam freezes, brow creasing, and gives him a small nod.

Nigel grins at him. "Hey, gorgeous!" he says brightly, stubbing out his last cigarette and brushing his hands off. "How was your day?"

"Pleasant, thank you," Adam replies. He looks down, like he can't figure out how to navigate this strange, sprawling man on his porch. On purpose, Nigel made it hard to just walk past him. He blinks. "Thank you for cleaning up the mess even though you have just made a new mess. But it's easier to clean up so I guess that's alright."

Nigel's smile widens, and he stands, and hands Adam his keys. "Just wanted to thank you again for your hospitality, angel," he says. Adam blinks at him again, then takes his keys and slides them into his pocket.

"You're welcome," he says. "Again."

"You hungry?" Nigel asks, bending down to scoop up the soup bowl. He seals it with the plastic lid and holds it laxly in one hand, to throw away later. "Someone recommended this restaurant down the street with really good soup and I figured you might be willing to join me."

Adam frowns at him. "That was me. I recommended it to you," he says.

Nigel huffs, and rolls his eyes. "I know, gorgeous, I was just teasing."

"Oh." Adam's face clears. He is fucking adorable, Nigel will give him that. And gorgeous, God is he gorgeous. A fucking masterpiece if Nigel does say so himself, with his dark, curling hair that's the perfect length to grip, his pretty eyes, his strong jaw and wide shoulders. Adam looks down at his hands, fidgets with them for a moment, before he smooths them down his stomach. "Um. I usually like to have warning before I agree to do something with people I don't know."

Nigel nods. This is, in fact, totally reasonable and especially so considering Nigel and Adam first met in a pool of vomit and chicken noodle soup. "Alright. How about tomorrow, then?"

Adam looks up at him. Nigel can tell he's about Adam's height, maybe a little taller, but the fact that he's standing on the step and Adam seems to keep himself in a perma-hunch just highlights how small he is. Nigel steps down, gives Adam room to move past him, and Adam's lips twitch in a thankful smile, he nods, and walks up to his front door.

Then, he turns around. "What's your name?" he asks.

"Nigel, gorgeous."

Adam nods. "Okay, Nigel. My name is Adam and I accept your invitation to dinner tomorrow."

Nigel grins, widely, a spark of warmth blooming in his chest. "You got it, Adam," he says, and watches as Adam nods, pulling his keys out of his pocket. "I'll pick you up at seven."

"I'm perfectly capable of walking," Adam replies, one brow arced, and Nigel blinks at him, before he realizes his misstep. But he grins, because there's a playful light in Adam's eyes and honestly, something about that haughty raised brow that is making Nigel think of some very un-angelic things. He's always had a soft spot for flirtatious disdain. "I will meet you there at seven."

Nigel grins, and salutes with his closed soup bowl. "I'm looking forward to it."


	2. Chapter 2

The restaurant is easy to find, thank God, since Nigel didn't actually ask for the name or specific location of it. The soup bowl Adam brought him had the name, and so he manages to match it, and goes there just shy of seven. He lights a cigarette, standing a little way away from the front door, idly people watching and pretending he's not on the lookout for his angel's pretty, dark curls, his slim shoulders, his awkward off-kilter smile.

Inside, the place seems warmly-lit, intimate. It's a casual-looking restaurant, the kind where Nigel won't be out of place in his short-sleeved button-down and slacks, nor will he look overdressed. The restaurant is almost entirely booths, stacked together along the walls and one set running down the center. 

Finally, he finishes his cigarette, stamps it out beneath his shoe, and goes inside.

"Evening!" a blonde teenager chirps from behind her hostess stand. Her nametag reads 'Emily', and Nigel smiles at her. "Dine in or carry out?"

"Dine in, please," Nigel replies, and she nods. "For two." She nods again, grabbing two menus, and leads him a little ways into the restaurant, to an unmanned booth by the window. Perfect. Nigel sits and she leaves with a promise to bring him some waters. He opens the menu, idly perusing – it seems this place specializes in soups and sandwiches, from the ordinary to the – who the Hell combines blue cheese and tofu?

"Oh, excuse me," Emily says, returning with two glasses of water. "I didn't realize you were here with Adam. Would you mind moving? He has a preferred place."

The angel in question is standing behind her, fingers wrapped around the strap of his messenger bag, his brow creased in a fine mixture of discomfort and earnest worry. 

"It's alright," he says. "I can sit here."

"No, gorgeous, please," Nigel says, and stands, taking his menus in hand. "I don't mind."

Adam's expression clears, his eyes bright when he smiles. Emily grins at both of them, and leads them to a different booth, this one tucked in at the back corner. It is, Nigel notices, a lot quieter back here, and Adam takes a seat immediately with his back to the wall, so that he can see the rest of the restaurant. Nigel doesn't like having his back to the door, but he knows enough about Adam at this point to know he has his particularities, and it's a small price to pay.

He sits, and Emily places their glasses down. With it, she has a Coke, which she sets in front of Adam.

"I'll give you guys a minute," she says brightly, and walks away. 

Adam nods at her, jerkily, and murmurs a soft 'Thank you'. He probably orders the same thing every time. Nigel looks down at his menu again and leaves the second one on the edge. Adam doesn't even look at it, his eyes fixed on the little holder for ketchup, salt, pepper, and sweeteners.

"What do you recommend?" Nigel asks after a moment. "Aside from the chicken noodle soup."

"Oh. Um." Adam's brow creases again, and he worries his lower lip in a way Nigel finds absolutely adorable. _God_ , he's gorgeous, much nicer to look at than the pictures of the food. He ducks his head to pull his messenger bag from his shoulders, and shoves it to the edge of the booth by the wall. "Their BLT is good. And the Reuben. And I like the sauce they put on their 'Fireman' sandwich but it's kind of spicy too and they don't put a lot of cheese on it so if you like cheese you should ask for extra."

"Okay," Nigel says with a grin, folding his menu and placing it on the other one. He sits back in the booth, relaxed and calm, watches Adam's fingers drum along the edge of the table. His head tilts. "Are you alright?"

"Mm." Adam wets his lips, darts his eyes up to meet somewhere around Nigel's forehead. "I told my friend Derek at work about having dinner with you tonight and he said you were asking me on a date, and I don't like to assume things, sometimes I have trouble reading people and so I guess I'm asking you if this is a date."

Nigel grins. God bless Derek. 

"I'd like to think of it as a date," he replies. Watches as Adam's eyes darken, and he gives a little jerky nod again, shoulders coming in, pushed back out. "But if you don't want it to be a date, then it doesn't have to be."

Adam meets his eyes again, tilts his head to one side. He lets out a quiet noise, drumming his fingers on the edge of the table.

"Are you lying?" he asks.

Nigel blinks. "No," he replies.

"I don't like it when people lie. Or only half-lie."

Nigel smiles, and shakes his head. "I'm not lying, gorgeous," he says softly. "I mean it – I would like this to be a date, but if you don't want it to be, then it isn't." Adam blinks, once, slowly, and bites his lower lip again. "Would you like this to be a date?"

"I don't know."

"Alright." Nigel leans in, clasping his hands together, forearms on the edge of the table. Adam doesn't rear back, but he doesn't lean forward either. "I'll admit, we didn't get off to a great start, but -."

"Based on how little we know about each other, the only reason you would ask me out on a date is because you're sexually attracted to me." Nigel blinks, and lets out a soft laugh. It's refreshing, really, how blunt Adam says things, how he doesn't shy away or hide behind pretty words. Nigel likes that, a lot. 

"It's not the _only_ reason," he replies. Adam frowns. "But, sure, since we're being blunt about it. I think you're gorgeous."

"Oh." Adam's expression clears, and he smiles, lopsided and showing the tips of his teeth. "That's why you call me that."

"Would there be another reason?"

"Some people are inclined towards using pet names, even with strangers," Adam says brightly, like this is something he's read about in a book. "Especially European people, I've noticed. Or Southerners. Or certain personality types."

Nigel smiles. "Do you like people-watching?"

Adam's head bobs in a nod. Before he can reply, Emily returns. She only asks for Nigel's order, and Nigel asks for the chicken noodle soup and a half-BLT. She nods, grinning at them, and moves away.

"They seem to know you, here."

Adam nods again. "I come here every Wednesday." He hums, wets his lips, brow furrowing. "I don't break routine often. They must think it's very strange."

"A little strange can be good," Nigel replies. "Some variation in routine, as long as it's a pleasant one."

Adam hums, his eyes bright, and he looks back at Nigel. His fingers reach for his Coke, wrap both hands around it and lifts it to his lips to take a drink. 

Then, quietly, he murmurs, "I think I would like this to be a date." Nigel smiles, widely, a little blossom of warmth in his chest at Adam's earnest voice. "As long as you promise not to vomit on my front porch again."

Nigel laughs, but remembers at the last moment to keep it quiet. "I promise, sweetheart; any and all vomit will be focused purely in the fucking toilet." Adam lifts his chin, his brows coming together again in a frown. "I'm sorry – I was teasing, gorgeous. It was a joke."

Adam hums, and centers his Coke back on the little white napkin. Corrects it, after a moment, so the edges line up with the edges of the table. "Were you sick?" he asks.

"If by 'sick' you mean 'drunk off my ass', then yes."

"Do you get 'drunk off your ass' often?"

Nigel sighs, and shakes his head. "No."

"Alright," Adam replies. "Good. Alcohol is quite damaging, not to mention whatever emotional or social reasons that drive people to overconsume alone. I don't like the idea of doing that often." His head tilts, and he presses his lips together. "Smoking, either."

"The one habit I can't quite kick," Nigel says with an unapologetic shrug. He'll understand, of course, if that's a deal breaker.  It would be a shame, but if Adam only wants to be his friend, Nigel can roll with that.

Adam's eyes meet his again, his hands flattening back into place on the edge of the table. His head tilts, and he gives Nigel a smile that's almost coy.

"Maybe we could both use a _small_ break in routine, then," he says, and the words are practically a purr. "As long as it's a pleasant one." The warmth in Nigel's chest tightens, and he blinks, and swallows when Adam's eyes dart down, watching his reaction. His smile widens.

"Maybe," he says, and Adam's smile turns into a full-on grin. He shifts his weight, straightening, and thanks Emily with a small nod when she brings them their food.


	3. Chapter 3

By the end of their meal, Nigel is pretty much positive that he is one-hundred-and-fifty perfect heels over fucking head in love with Adam Raki. If the man weren't already such a masterpiece to look at – and _God_ , Nigel could write fucking epics about his eyes if he were a more poetic man, dedicate sonnets to the little quirks of his mouth, the flashes of teeth, create endless songs that mimicked and matched the way his hands move when he speaks – even without all that, just being with him is like sitting in the presence of something delightful and pure. He is so wonderfully earnest, so plain-spoken, not at all like the sons of bitches Nigel associated himself with for far too long and far too deeply back in Europe.

Adam is, in a word, enchanting, and Nigel is enchanted by him.

He insists on paying for dinner, earning a paltry protest that was assuaged by Nigel assuring him that he had more money and fewer expenses, so it was the economically beneficial choice – besides, he asked Adam out first, which meant he should pay. Adam had accepted that with one of his little nods, his creased brow, his bitten lower lip. _Christ_ , how anyone hadn't managed to snatch him up already, Nigel would never know.

He could, honestly, listen to Adam talk all damn day long, all week long, for the rest of his life. Watching Adam when he gets going on something is like watching someone create an entire world out of thin air – he lights up with it, eagerly describing his job, his habit of star-gazing, his lifetime love of space and all things within it. He doesn't ask much about Nigel, content to talk and talk and talk, and Nigel appreciates that as well – his own past is as dark as the void between Adam's stars, and contains wounds he'd rather not poke at for the time being.

Check paid and dinner done, they walk close together back to Adam's house, and Nigel lights a cigarette, idly smoking as they go. Adam doesn't seem to mind the smell, but Nigel makes sure to stay downwind of him and thinks he sees Adam's eyes brighten in pleasure when he notices. In these moments, Adam falls silent, his eyes wide and darting around him as if taking the world in brand-new. He's radiant, his cheeks bearing a lovely flush from the warm weather, the soft-looking curls on his head slightly askew; he has a habit of touching his hair when he gets flustered, or thinks he's talked for too long.

Nigel would like to personally track down every person who made Adam feel that way and teach them the intimate consequences of their actions, but he contents himself, instead, with regarding his companion with a fond smile, watching when Adam's attention is caught by a couple of teenagers sitting on the wall ahead of them, about three seconds away from falling off if the way they're blissfully necking each other and radically off-kilter is any indication. He clears his throat, huffing a laugh as the teens straighten and part to stare at him, and salutes with his cigarette-holding hand when he and Adam pass by.

Adam eyes him, and smiles when Nigel meets his gaze. "You are not a subtle person."

Nigel's brows lift, and he stubs out his cigarette on top of one of the ashtrays set into a trashcan, wiping his fingers on his shirt. "Am I supposed to be?" he replies with a smile, catching up to Adam as they resume their walk.

Adam's shoulders lift and fall like someone is pulling strings on them. He regards Nigel, chin lifted, one brow slightly arched, and Christ, Nigel is such a sucker for that kind of playful haughtiness. "My friend Beth says that if there is a situation where we don't have to speak or act, to draw attention to ourselves, then we shouldn't, because it's not polite. Like arguing with a speaker during a lecture, or," he pauses, gesturing vaguely behind them, "interrupting a couple when they clearly are in the middle of something."

"Your friend Beth sounds very wise," Nigel says with a nod. "But what if the speaker said something that's not correct? Or the kids ended up falling off the damn wall 'cause no one made them take a breath?"

Adam pauses, and grins at Nigel, his eyes brightening. "That's what I said!" he says happily, fingers fidgeting around the strap of his bag. "Well, about the speaker. The other situation only applies here." Nigel gives him an encouraging smile, pleased when Adam's expression softens. "It's bad to spread misinformation. If someone is speaking to a big room and they say something wrong it could be really bad if no one speaks up."

"I agree," Nigel murmurs. God knows he's been on the wrong side of one too many a fucking bad speech.

They approach the little walkway leading to Adam's front door, and Adam pauses, one foot on the first step. He frowns up at his door, biting his lower lip, and rests his hand on one of the gate posts. Nigel tilts his head, content to wait patiently for Adam to decide what he wants to say.

Finally, Adam sighs, and steps back so they're on level ground, and his eyes land somewhere in the vicinity of Nigel's jaw. "I had a lot of fun tonight, Nigel," he says, very soft, sweet as ever. Nigel smiles.

"I did, too."

"I'd like to spend more time with you. Dinner again, maybe. Or we could go to the park." His shoulders lift and fall again. "There's meant to be a cloudless sky tomorrow night, I was going to take my telescope out and look at the stars." He pauses, darts his eyes up, lets them rise further to Nigel's hair, and bites his lower lip. "If you'd like to come, I'd like you to be there."

"Of course, gorgeous, I wouldn't miss it for the world," Nigel says with a big smile. Adam blinks, blinks again, meets his eyes briefly and blushes, shifting his weight.

"You're looking at me weird," he says.

"Oh?" Nigel's smile widens, because he knows _exactly_ how he's looking at Adam.

Adam nods, brow creasing in the middle. "Tell me what you're thinking? I'm not good at this part."

"Well, gorgeous, I was thinking about how much I'd like to kiss you, if you're okay with that."

"Oh." Adam's nose wrinkles, and he shakes his head and huffs – a small, complaining noise. "No, I don't think so. You just smoked a cigarette and I don't have a spare toothbrush in my house. I don't think it would be very pleasant at all to kiss you right now."

Nigel laughs, and runs a hand through his hair, slouching against the wall. "Well, you got me there."

Adam hums, pressing his lips together, and runs his eyes down Nigel's chest, to his other hand, to his feet. "If you brush your teeth before meeting me tomorrow, and don't smoke while we're together, though…" He trails off, fingers drumming anxiously along the strap of his messenger bag.

Nigel nods. "I can do that," he says, and wonders if he's going to have to start investing in those fucking nicotine patches, so he can have his fix of the drug, and of Adam. Hell, he'll cover himself head to toe in the damn things if it means, one day, having an all-access pass to that sinful, sweet, tempting as _fuck_ mouth.

Adam gives him a small, crooked smile that shows the points of his teeth again. He shifts his weight. "Nigel," he murmurs, and the way he says Nigel's name is so fucking _sweet_ , God, Nigel could easily hear him say it like that the rest of his fucking life. "Are you the kind of person who…takes things slow?"

Nigel's head tilts. "What do you mean?" he asks, but there's a coil of warmth in his chest that knows exactly what Adam means.

Adam sighs. "My friend Beth was my girlfriend for a while and when we first started dating she said she wanted to take things slow, but we ended up having sex within the week and planned on moving in together very quickly. She was meant to come with me to California but she ended up changing her mind." Nigel nods, at once swallowing back the flare of possessive jealousy, and supremely glad that she was stupid enough to let Adam go, to give Nigel his chance. "At least, people kept telling her it was moving very quickly. Which leads me to believe people have very different definitions of what 'slow' means, but I find you incredibly attractive, so I want to know what 'slow' means for you and if you want to move slowly."

Nigel's breath catches in his throat, and he straightens. "Adam, if you said it was okay I'd go upstairs with you right now."

Adam's head tilts, frowning at Nigel's chest.

"For sex?"

"Kissing, sex, whatever the fuck you wanted."

"Mm." Adam's lips press together, and he gives Nigel one more flash of eye contact, his pink cheeks bulging with a smile. "That's good. Are you good at it?" He looks up again. "Sex?"

"Haven't had any complaints so far," Nigel breathes.

Adam huffs, rolling his bright eyes. "That's good to know," he says brightly, and Nigel clenches his fists together, because Adam is smiling again, now, coy and flirtatious – at least, it looks that way. That might just be how he's starting to smile at Nigel. Adam nods, once. "Well, sunset is at 8:07 tomorrow night, and I want to be in the park before then so I can watch the stars come out. Will you meet me here at 7:30?"

"I'll be here," Nigel says. Adam nods again, a quick bob of his head, swallows, and reaches out slowly, takes Nigel's hand and squeezes, once, before letting go.

He turns away and walks to his front door, and Nigel exhales heavily, running a hand through his hair, and turns to leave.

"Oh, Nigel?" Nigel pauses, and turns to face him again, finds Adam looking at him with his head tilted, that soft, delightfully smug-looking smile on his face. "You really should consider cutting back on cigarettes. I have quite a high sex drive and I don't need to be worrying about your health."

"Oh, Jesus Christ," Nigel mutters, and isn't sure if he's more turned on or sheepish at Adam's plain speech. He runs another hand through his hair and gives Adam a salute. "I'll think about it, gorgeous. See you tomorrow. 7:30."

"Bye!" Adam says brightly, and gives a little wave, before he turns around again and enters his building. Nigel huffs, palming his pocket for his pack of cigarettes, and starts the walk back to his hotel. After a few blocks, he eyes the pack, and, sighing, pulls out all but three and throws the rest away, pocketing the pack again.

He'll get some of those fucking patches first thing tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4

It takes five of those fucking nicotine patches plastered over Nigel's upper arm before he feels even close to calm, and that feeling pretty much runs for the fucking hills as he turns the corner onto his gorgeous angel's street. He checks his watch, finding that it's two minutes until 7:30, and he hurries down the street to the stone wall separating the walkway and the sidewalk, pausing for breath. He can't open the door without Adam's key, and he noticed last time being here that the buzzer for Adam's apartment had been disabled – or destroyed. He probably doesn't like the noise, how loud and startling it is.

So he sighs, and sits on the steps, absently patting his chest for a pack of cigarettes and growling to himself when he finds none. Because he threw the pack out. Because Adam won't kiss him with smoker's breath, and Nigel's damn well done a lot more for a lot less. If he can't feel Adam's mouth against his tonight because of a damn cancer stick then he's the biggest, weakest bitch alive.

The door opens as his watch ticks over to 7:30, and Nigel looks up, smiling when he sees Adam emerging from his house. He's dressed in jeans, brown shoes, a dark blue sweater that perfectly matches the storm-cloud flecks in his iris, his hair the same ruffled mess it always is. He's carrying a long, thin black bag that looks very heavy, if the way his body is angled to compensate for its weight is any indication, as well as a rolled-up picnic blanket that's attached to another shoulder strap, and a cooler that swings the lowest, batting against his knee as he turns and locks the door.

Nigel stands, approaching him, glad to see Adam's eyes brighten in fond recognition. "Hi Nigel," he says. "You're right on time!" And he sounds delighted about that.

"I never like to keep people waiting," Nigel replies. He gestures to Adam's bags. "Would you like some help?"

Adam nods in thanks, and carefully hands over the straps to the cooler and the blanket. He pushes his head through the telescope bag strap, so it's slung across his chest, digs in under his pectoral muscle and makes his sweater ride up, revealing a small slip of skin before he tugs it down again. Nigel's mouth waters, and then goes abruptly dry as Adam grins widely at him, and takes his hand, leading him back down the stairs.

Nigel catches up quickly, careful to avoid accidentally knocking his body or his bags against Adam's telescope, for he's certain Adam wouldn't appreciate it. The sky is already beginning to darken, the brightest of the stars starting to shine at the very top of the dome. He can't wait to see what they look like reflected in Adam's eyes.

They walk in silence, and Nigel finds himself furtively reaching for more cigarettes, only to remember they're not there. If Adam notices, he says nothing, but his thumb brushes very gently over Nigel's knuckles, and he squeezes as they walk. He walks with confidence, knowing the route, and Nigel has to appreciate that in a city like Los Angeles, no one gives them a second look.

Adam sighs, his lips tilted up in a vague, absent smile, and Nigel can't help smiling with him. "How was your day, gorgeous?" he murmurs.

Adam blinks, as though he'd quite forgotten Nigel was there. His fingers tighten in answer, his eyes flash over for a brief moment, and his smile widens. "Frustrating," he replies. Nigel's head tilts. "I give tours at the observatory occasionally and there was one man who would not stop speaking over me. It was quite annoying."

Nigel huffs. He can't imagine anyone wanting to speak when Adam is so excitably talking about space. Nigel could happily sit in silence and listen to him forever. "Want me to hunt him down and kick his ass?" he offers.

Adam's brow creases, and he looks at Nigel again. "I don't think that's necessary," he replies primly, and Nigel gives him an unapologetic smile. Adam worries his lower lip, lets it slide out, a tantalizing show of his white teeth. "Do you often respond to mild nuisances with threats of violence?"

Nigel huffs. He wishes he did have a cigarette, now, just to give his free hand something to do. "I try not to," he replies. "But it used to be a condition of the job."

Adam's head tilts. "What did you used to do?"

"I, ah." Nigel winces, rubbing the back of his neck. "Not important. I don't do it anymore."

Adam stops mid-step, and pulls his hand from Nigel's. He's glaring now, towards Nigel's chest, and swallows harshly. "Don't lie to me," he snaps. "I don't like it when people lie."

Nigel presses his lips together, sighs through his nose. "I'm not lying, gorgeous," he replies quietly. "It's true – it's not important, and I don't do it anymore, so it's not relevant, right?" Adam blinks, but his expression doesn't soften, so Nigel says; "I used to be a supply runner. For dangerous men, with dangerous men working for them. Sometimes I had to get violent, so I got used to the idea."

To his surprise, Adam lifts his eyes, and he laughs. "Oh," he says, and shakes his head. He takes Nigel's hand again, and continues their course. The edge of housing comes and goes, and Adam takes him to a tall, metal fence, and a gate in it that opens with a light creak of metal. There are trees on the other side, tall and leafy-green, and Nigel shivers at the press of cool air once they step into the shade.

Nigel clears his throat. "You're okay with that?" he asks – he doesn't want to push, but Adam's reaction startles him.

Adam hums, nodding once, like his chin has been tugged on. "Professional violence is different than other kinds," he says flatly, like this is a known fact. "My father was in the military. He was violent, too. On a professional level. You're right – sometimes it's necessary."

Nigel doesn't really know what to do with being compared to Adam's father, but he swallows back his reply, content to let it pass. Adam leads him past the first ring of trees, to a large open field, that extends on one side to a footpath, where there are benches and another fence. A few people are just beginning to gather their mini picnics and blankets, having been sunbathing or reading or otherwise enjoying the nice day.

Adam walks to the very center, where the lamps lining the footpath will not touch them once the sun sets, and lets go of Nigel's hand. "Please unroll the blanket," he instructs, and Nigel obeys with a nod, snapping the blanket full and laying it flat, the edges curling downwards. It's a bright blue and silver plaid pattern, and he smiles at the choice. He weighs down one corner with the cooler and sits, as Adam crouches and begins to take out and assemble his telescope.

"Are you watching for anything in particular?" he asks, though he doesn't really care. Adam can watch the stars as much as he wants, but Nigel knows he'll be watching his gorgeous angel, because nothing up there could compare.

Adam smiles at him. _God_ , he's so fucking pretty. His smile is off-kilter, dimpling his pale cheeks, and he shakes his head, lifts his shoulders in a brief shrug, and settles on his knees as he finishes putting together the telescope. He bows down, fitting his eye to the lens, adjusting it as he says; "Not really. And I'll admit after using the observatory telescope, mine isn't nearly as powerful, but I still like coming out and watching the stars."

Nigel nods, leaning back on his elbows. It makes the short sleeves of his shirt ride up, revealing the bottom of the cluster of patches on his arm, and Adam's eyes move to it, flashing as he realizes what they are. "Oh!" he says brightly. "Have you decided to quit smoking?"

Nigel nods.

"That's good. Smoking is very bad for you, you know."

Nigel laughs. "Yeah, gorgeous, I've heard all the lectures."

Adam hums, settling on his haunches, content to wait since it's still too bright to really use the telescope and see the stars. Nigel straightens, and reaches out to wrap an arm around Adam's waist, and Adam collapses against him, apparently more than happy to wriggle up against his side and let Nigel pet over his skinny flank, down to his hip.

"If you've heard all the lectures, why did you only just now decide to quit?" he asks, like he's wondering aloud.

Nigel grins, and nuzzles Adam's hair, pleased when the younger man shivers, his fingers flexing on his thighs, his teeth sinking into his lower lip. "You said you wouldn't kiss me if I'd been smoking," he purrs. Adam's skin is warm, unbearably soft as Nigel's nose brushes beneath his ear. His hand tightens on Adam's hip as Adam gasps again, lets out a sweet, barely audible little whine. "That's a really good fucking incentive to quit, angel."

Adam smiles, looking down at his hands.

"That's very flattering," he murmurs, shivering as Nigel kisses his hair again. He wants Adam to turn his head, wants to kiss him properly, but he also doesn't want to rob his angel of the chance to look at his stars. So instead he dips his thumb below Adam's sweater, finds that slip of skin that he teased Nigel's eyes with before, and rubs a light circle over the jut of his hip.

Adam swallows, his fingers curling around his knees as he pulls them up. " _Nigel_ ," he says, almost a complaint. It makes Nigel go still, and he straightens, but Adam grabs his knee and squeezes tightly. Nigel smiles.

"I don't want to distract you from looking, Adam," he says. "Would you like me to stop?"

Adam's brow creases, his eyes lifting to the sky. He swallows, drums his fingertips against their knees, shivers again as Nigel, still, doesn't move.

"No," he replies quietly. "Maybe this is a -. This is fine."

Nigel smiles. "A change in routine?" he finishes for him, and Adam nods. "I promise I won't do it too often. And if you want me to stop, I will."

Adam nods again, a little more frantically this time, like his head was pushed instead of tugged on. Nigel slips the rest of his fingers under Adam's sweater, teases at the digging line of the waistband of his jeans. _Christ_ , but Adam's skin is so soft, and he's so reactive that even the small touch to his hip is enough to make him jolt. His hand is tight enough on Nigel's knee that he's sure Adam could rip the damn cap off if he decided to pull.

He leans in again, unable to resist tasting another piece of Adam's arching neck. He smells fantastic, like outside air and a very faint hint of cologne – applied at the beginning of the day, but not since. The gentle salt of sweat from his day, and from their walk to get here in the humid air. He noses beneath Adam's hair, finds the blushing, pink patch of skin just below his ear, and kisses there lightly.

Adam _whines_ , entire body clenching up and shivering again. Nigel hides his smirk to his angel's pretty throat and kisses over his thundering pulse. "Do you like getting kissed here?" he asks, though the answer is obvious.

"Yes," Adam replies, flatly but breathless. "It makes me excited."

"What about this?" Nigel purrs, finds where his hipbone ends and curls his fingers around it, thumb sliding up his waist and inward, to where his belly grows soft. Adam whines again, biting his lower lip, and nods. "What else do you like, gorgeous?"

"I like it when I play with my nipples," Adam says, and Nigel huffs a laugh, surprised but undeniably pleased as Adam, once again, gets right to the point. "And, of course, penile stimulation is nice. But we're in a public place."

Nigel hums, and kisses his neck again. "It'll get dark soon," he replies. Adam doesn't respond immediately to that, except to tremble and let out another sweet, desperate sound. Nigel has mercy on him, straightens and kisses his cheek, and removes his hand from Adam's skin. It wouldn't do to get his angel so excited that when they inevitably stop, he's frustrated. Nigel doesn't want Adam frustrated.

Adam whines, and turns to look at him, his eyes shining brilliantly despite the darkness. "I'd like to kiss you," he says, and Nigel swallows, and nods. Adam leans in, cups his face, tilts his head, and presses their mouths together. It's chaste, but warm, and Nigel is the one shivering now, his eyes slipping closed as Adam moves and settles on his knees, so he can keep the kiss lingering. When he pulls back, his eyes are at half-mast, pupils wide and dark. His eyes lift, to Nigel's hair, drop to his nose, to his lips, to where Adam's thumb is touching his cheek.

He kisses again, sliding his hand to Nigel's nape and gripping the ends of his hair tightly, and Nigel growls at that, reaches for Adam and fists his hand in those messy, sinfully tempting curls. Adam gasps when he does it, breaks only long enough to give a soft 'I like that', and then his lips are parting and he's licking into Nigel's mouth. For all he seems withdrawn, demure, almost deceptively innocent, he kisses like he knows what he's doing. His tongue curls around Nigel's and he bites down gently when Nigel answers in kind, causing a sharp ricochet of heat to run down Nigel's spine. Adam curls his fingers, drags his nails gently down the side of Nigel's neck, then flattens his hand again, two fingers over his racing pulse.

He ends the kiss, breathing deeply for air, and smiles. "Are you excited too, Nigel?" he says, soft as a purr, smug as a canary-filled cat.

Nigel swallows, and rasps, "Abso-fucking-lutely."

Adam grins, tilts his head. Blinks, once, twice. "You don't have any diseases, do you?"

Nigel laughs. "No, not that I know of."

"Mm." Adam's brow arches, that deliciously haughty look flashing through his eyes. God, Nigel would live and die for that look alone. "We should use protection anyway, just to be sure." Nigel's breath catches – throughout his life he's become accustomed to women throwing themselves at him, at Darko's clubs, but it came with the bitter taste of knowing those women were probably paid to be friendly and desirable. Even if he did catch one on a random night out, the uncertainty, the call-and-response transaction of buying drinks and flashing cash to entice them left something to be desired. Having Adam like this, no requirement from Nigel but to simply be good, having it be a certainty, is affecting him deeper than he anticipated. "I don't have any with me, though."

"I can buy some on the way home," Nigel replies. Adam smiles at that, softening at the offer. He nods, and leans in to give Nigel another sweet, lingering kiss. Nigel sighs, brushing a gentle hand through his hair, and then embraces Adam, getting him settled and tucked under Nigel's arm. "But we came out here to look at the stars, angel. I don't want to mess up your routine too badly."

Adam's smile is bright, he's glowing with happiness, and Nigel knows he made the right call. "Okay," Adam murmurs, and sits up, tugging on the strap of the cooler and bringing it to him. "I brought some things to eat, if you're hungry."

Nigel smiles. "Time difference is still messing with me. I already ate," he replies. Adam nods, like this is no problem, and opens the cooler, revealing what Nigel has to admit looks like barely enough food for one. He's glad he ate, because he doesn't want Adam to be hungry. He does, however, take the bottle of water Adam offers him, and takes a drink as Adam unwraps a white bread ham sandwich and takes a big bite, his chin tilted up so he can watch the stars as he eats.

 

 

They spend hours like that. Adam finishes his dinner and moves the telescope so he can watch the stars close enough for Nigel to keep petting down his back. He angles it, occasionally, and has Nigel look – they are quite pretty, even though to him they just look like pinpricks of light, no matter how Adam focuses the thing. He listens to Adam talk about things like red and blue shift, dark matter, the pearlescent shine of their own galaxy that they can see sometimes, as the night darkens, and the only light is the street lamps lining the running path.

Then, Adam's watch beeps, and he looks down at it. "It's 11:30," he says, like this is supposed to mean something to Nigel. "I usually go home now."

"If you want to stay out, we can," Nigel replies. "If you want to go back, we can."

Adam presses his lips together, his head tilting, and then he nods to himself. "I'd like to go home. I'm still quite excited and would like to have sex with you."

Nigel chokes on a laugh, scratching at the patches on his arm. "Like I said yesterday, angel, we can do whatever the fuck you want."

Adam smiles, and begins to dissemble his telescope as Nigel busies himself with packing away their wrappers and water bottles in the cooler. When Adam stands, bagging his telescope, Nigel folds and rolls the blanket, securing it and sticking it in the cooler. He shoulders the bag and Adam takes his telescope, slinging it over his head, and their hands lace again as they walk back towards the gate.

Adam sighs happily, and presses his lips together. "You don't need to go to the store," he tells Nigel. "I have condoms and lubricant at my house." Nigel nods. "But if you need more nicotine patches I don't have any of those."

"I'm alright," Nigel replies. He's jittery, sure, but he won't leave Adam's side for a single second if he doesn't have to.

Adam nods, and they walk back to his house. He opens the front door and leads Nigel up to his apartment, unlocking that and allowing him inside. He locks and bolts the door behind them. Nigel's been here before, of course, but it feels different, knowing what Adam has invited him up here for. To use Adam's words, he's excited. Very, _very_ fucking excited.

"Would you like something to drink?" Adam offers. "My friend Beth says you should always offer a guest something to drink."

"I'm okay," Nigel replies. He takes off the cooler, and Adam smiles and takes it from him, going into the kitchen and setting it down on the counter. He shrugs off his telescope and sets it beside, and then turns and meets Nigel's eyes.

Nigel goes to him, drawn as if on a leash, and cradles Adam's hips in his hands, splaying his fingers out wide as Adam shivers, bites his lower lip, tilts his head up in readiness. Nigel kisses him, a soft moan escaping when, again, Adam easily takes control of it, cupping Nigel's neck and holding him still as he licks into Nigel's mouth. He tastes like his ham sandwich, and his little pudding cup, sweet and salty at once. Nigel presses closer, shoves him against the counter, plants his hands on either side of Adam and shivers when he feels just how _excited_ Adam is. He can feel Adam's cock, a heavy outline in his jeans, and Adam whines, tilts his head, deepens the kiss as Nigel fits a thigh between his and gives him something to grind against.

He pulls back with a gasp, cheeks a lovely, blushing pink, pupils wide. "We should go to the bedroom," he murmurs, and Nigel nods, releasing his angel and letting Adam lead him to his room. It's the same as Nigel remembers, with the blues and silvers and space paraphernalia. His bed is a black canvas and Adam leads him to it, draws the duvet back to reveal blue sheets, and pushes Nigel onto it.

Adam goes to his bedside table, opens the third drawer, and pulls out a bottle of lube and a single condom, placing them down. Then he returns to Nigel, and practically lunges for him, shoving him down on the bed. Nigel laughs breathlessly, lifts his head as Adam straddles his hips and cups his neck, kissing him with feverish passion. His hips twitch up, seeking pressure, and Adam slides back just far enough to give Nigel something to grind against, making him moan.

Adam pulls back, red and panting, and stares down at him. He licks his lips, lashing fluttering as he undoubtedly tastes Nigel still clinging to him, and he straightens, pulling his sweater over his head and tossing it to one side, revealing a light blue t-shirt that looks like it's far too large for him. It swamps him, loops low around his pretty throat, revealing the center of his collarbones and a hollow Nigel wants to lick at.

He sits up, pressing his lips in a wide kiss over Adam's collarbone, humming in pleasure when Adam's hands slide through his hair. Nigel wraps his arms around him, pushing him down onto his cock, and slides his hands over the small of his back, dipping below the waistband of his jeans.

Adam laughs, breathlessly. "Nigel," he says, grinning and chiding. "What are you doing?"

Nigel grins. "Touching you, angel," he replies. "Do you not like it?"

Adam tilts his head. Hums in thought. "Given that you didn't eat, and I did, I assumed I would be the one penetrating you," he says matter-of-factly. Nigel's eyes widen, and he swallows. "And," Adam continues, rolling his hips in a slow, delicious grind onto Nigel's trapped erection, "while condoms are certainly able to stretch and accommodate sizes, I only have some that fit me. I don't know if they'd be comfortable for you."

How the fuck Adam can be so put together to say all that, Nigel has no idea. Adam's brow lifts, that same haughty, smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He leans in, their foreheads touching, noses brushing, and breathes; "Is that going to be a problem?" And it's so, so _teasing_ , and Nigel might be falling just a little more in love with every passing second.

He shakes his head. "Not at all, gorgeous," he rasps, and pulls his fingers away from where they had been dangerously close to teasing at Adam's hole. "You can fuck me if you want."

Adam's answering smile is blinding, and he nods, lifting from Nigel's lap and grinning when Nigel groans. "You should get naked, then," he says. Nigel doesn't think he's ever stripped so fast in his life. Adam is slower to get fucking on with it, but eventually he's naked too, and has the lubricant in his hand.

He hands it to Nigel, and Nigel takes it, slicking his fingers as Adam watches, eyes black and ravenous. The flush has started to spread down his chest, staining his pretty, pale skin, and Nigel can't look away as he spreads his legs, wraps his dry hand around his aching, leaking cock, and slides his wet fingers between his thighs. It's been a while for him, and Adam is by no means small despite his dainty stature, but he's eager for it, and forces two fingers in right away.

Adam hums, and reaches for the condom, opening it carefully and rolling it onto his erection. "Please come here," he commands, and Nigel grits his teeth, shifts on the bed until his ass is on the edge of it, his heels braced where the mattress ends. Adam breathes out heavily, nostrils flaring, his hands flattening wide and warm on the inside of Nigel's spread thighs. He reaches down, wraps his hand around Nigel's cock and strokes with him, and Nigel lets go, happy to let his angel touch him as he likes. Adam seems enthralled, thumbing at the stretch of foreskin, teasing beneath the head, spreading the leaking slick of precum down Nigel's shaft as Nigel works himself open.

Then, Nigel pulls his fingers out, bends up to grip Adam's hip tightly. Adam gasps, lashes fluttering as Nigel pulls him close. He releases Nigel's cock and pushes at his thighs, making him spread up and out, and bows his head as Nigel wraps his fingers gently around the tip of Adam's cock, helping him line up.

Adam's hips roll, his shoulders tense, and he pushes in. Nigel groans, letting him go, head tipping back as he feels Adam force his way inside. It's a tight fit, he can tell, and makes his body bloom and ache in a dull throb, but the slack-jawed, blissful look on Adam's face is more than worth it. His cock twitches as Adam sinks all the way inside, and collapses forward, bracing one hand on Nigel's chest, the other wrapping around the back of his neck.

Nigel shivers, wraps his legs around Adam, and lifts his head until their foreheads touch. He brushes his fingers across Adam's nipples, makes him whimper and rut, biting his lower lip, and Nigel smiles. "Feels good, gorgeous?" he murmurs.

Adam nods, letting out another helpless little whine. He tilts his head and kisses Nigel with teeth, curls his fingers in Nigel's chest hair and pulls back, fucking forward with a forcefulness that is as surprising as it is welcome. Nigel's body jolts, tightens his fingers around Adam's peaked nipples in answer, and Adam groans against his mouth, his cheeks red and sweat beginning to gather on his brow.

"You're very tight," he breathes, and Nigel huffs a laugh, running his hands up Adam's back, down to his ass. It's tense, flexing, and fits wonderfully in Nigel's hands. He yanks Adam forward and he goes, moaning loudly and gritting his teeth, his nails digging into Nigel's nape. He rakes his fingers down Nigel's chest, panting hard as Nigel coaxes him into a rhythm, makes him press in tight and pull back almost all the way before fucking forward again. " _Nigel_."

"That's it, gorgeous, don't hold back," Nigel says, grunting as Adam seems more than happy to obey, gritting his teeth and fucking Nigel hard enough that the mattress creaks beneath them. Adam rears back, gasping, cups Nigel's hips and lifts them and Nigel scrambles, trying to brace his heels and get a good angle, and _oh_ , _fuck yeah_ , right there -.

He moans, fisting his cock since Adam is in no position to do it for him, one hand squeezing the head in rhythm with Adam's thrusts, the other teasing pressure at the base how he likes. He can't look away from Adam, this gorgeous angel, his eyes closed to slits and his pretty mouth parted as he sucks in air. The flush on his sweaty chest, the tension in his stomach.

Adam groans, abruptly, digging his fingers tight in Nigel's flesh and pressing deep, going still. His jaw slides to one side, his shoulders rolling up and trembling, and he gasps, eyes flaring open, and then collapses over Nigel, kissing him breathlessly. His hips work in juddering little thrusts as he floods the condom, panting and pawing at Nigel's hair as he empties himself inside.

Nigel kisses him back, eager to devour this sweet little angel, and he wraps an arm around Adam's back, holds him still and pressed deep as he keeps stroking himself. Adam whines, flinching and oversensitive as Nigel clamps down around his softening cock, but then Nigel is coming too, and every muscle in him goes lax, and Adam can slip out of him.

Adam takes off the condom with a huff, throws it away, and returns with a wet washcloth that he uses to wipe himself, first, then between Nigel's legs, then cleaning the mess from his belly and hand. The washcloth ends up in the hamper, and Nigel sits up as Adam crawls back into the bed, smiling wide, still beautifully flushed.

He takes Nigel by the neck and kisses him, humming in satisfaction. "You didn't lie," he says happily, and Nigel laughs. "That felt very nice. I'm looking forward to doing it again. You can top, next time, if you'd like – as long as I haven't eaten anything."

Nigel grins, and shakes his head, still trying to catch his fucking breath. "Whatever you want, gorgeous," he replies, and Adam smiles and nuzzles his shoulder. "Do you want me to go, now?" he asks. After all, Adam is a particular person, and might not appreciate a sudden other giant man in his bed.

Adam blinks, and seems to give this some serious thought. Then he shakes his head and gives Nigel another happy, open smile. "I'd like you to stay, if that's alright," he replies.

"That's definitely fucking alright," Nigel says, and kisses him again.

Adam grins, and then his nose wrinkles and he takes in a big breath. "Come on. We need to shower, and I doubt those patches are still releasing nicotine. We can make it to the store if we hurry." Nigel nods, huffing another laugh when Adam continues; "And you have applied far too many – we'll have to wean you off them eventually."

Nigel rolls his eyes, but lets Adam pull him from the bed and hustle him towards the bathroom. "Whatever you say, angel."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this while smoking, ironically.  
> And that sex scene was based on that gifset. You know the one.  
> I hope you guys liked it! Thank you for indulging my second foray into spacedogs <3


End file.
